


You always taste like peppermint (I don't mind the burn)

by MarbleAide



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Depression, F/F, Family Bonding, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Rimming, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's home for Christmas after his first semester away at college and Dick's surprised by how much he's grown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You always taste like peppermint (I don't mind the burn)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new longest completed fic and I think that's a great way to ring in the new year, right? 
> 
> This is for all my awesome followers on tumblr who both helped me hash out the idea for this fic and were super patient while I finished it up. Thank you so much guys!

It’s a week before Christmas and it’s snowing.

Alfred was supposed to pick Tim up, but his eyesight has been getting bad, so Dick offered when the sky grew dark and snow started to fall. It wasn’t a problem.

Getting Tim home had been enough of a struggle already, as the day before there’d been a bad snow storm that stranded Tim in the Pittsburgh airport overnight. He’d caught the last half of the call he had with Bruce that night, with Bruce pacing back and forth in his study looking tired as he kept pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at his eyes, ever the worried father. Dick only caught bits of the conversation, having not actually wanted to show that he was eavesdropping. Parts about the weather, about the horrible crowd at the airport, about Tim not wanting to get a hotel and then Bruce proceeding to insist he could buy a hotel if he needed to get a room to which Tim kept yelling at him, that he’d be fine for a night and kept calling Bruce ‘dad’ in a very serious tone that all of them usually reserved when he was pulling too much of a ‘dad card’ on them.

“You worry way too much,” Dick had said when Bruce had finally gotten off the phone. He didn’t look any more relaxed or relieved then when he’d picked it up. “Seriously. Tim’ll be fine. He’s resourceful.” Dick walked into the study, patting Bruce on the shoulder. “Besides, he’s quiet and shy. No one’s gonna mess with him. He’ll get a Cinnabon for dinner, drink as much Starbucks as he can, probably not sleep a wink, and be on the first flight into Gotham. No biggie.”

The little pep talk didn’t seem to change much, so instead Dick had dragged Bruce down stairs so he could worry about his youngest son who appeared to be strategizing a plan on how to actually climb the Christmas tree to get the star on top. Bruce scolded him for a good twenty minutes, plenty of time for him to forget about Tim for a bit.

And after all that disaster with the weather calmed down and the streets freshly salted and plowed, Dick was off to pick up Tim from the airport.

He parked in short term parking, quickly jogging inside the building to get out of the cold. He hadn’t actually told Tim he was the one picking him up instead of Alfred. Dick had wanted it to be a surprise seeing as he hadn’t actually seen Tim for about five months. He was so busy in Bludhaven with work, he’s barely managed to come down to Gotham to send Tim off when he first went up and Tim had missed Thanksgiving because of class schedules and a test he’d had the week after. Which, as it turned out, wasn’t too terrible for him as he’d gotten to spend the holiday with a friend’s family (though, Dick’s positive Alfred got jealous when Tim had mentioned needing to get an apple pie recipe from the mother—or at least that’s why Dick figured Alfred seemed so focused on making the best apple pie this year.)

Dick stood around waiting, checking his phone over and over just in case there were some other delays he didn’t know about. Bruce had yet to call or text him though, so everything should be well off. Dick thought he should have made up a sign or something as a joke—something big and obnoxious, probably covered in glitter that would have Tim hitting him with it later. Next time, maybe. For now, he was sure all Tim wanted was to get home where he could sleep in a bed and not on an airport floor.

All the signs said the flight was on time, had arrived about fifteen minutes ago, and so Tim should be here soon…unless he’d missed the first flight and not told anyone yet. Or slept through it, he wouldn’t be surprised with Tim if he had.

“Dick?”

It took him a second to realize someone had called his name, looking up from his phone to find Tim coming down the escalator, waving.

Tim who looked very not how Dick remembered.

Tim who’d grown up in five months.

He could feel his eyes going wide, couldn’t help it as the small little ‘fuck’ fell from his lips at the sight of his little brother.

“Dick!”

Tim wore a hoodie and jeans that looked too big and too tight respectfully. A scarf hung loosely around his throat and his shoes looked about ready to fall off with how pulled out the laces were as Tim stepped from the escalator to race at Dick, slamming into him hard to drag him into a hug.

Dick grunted slightly before hugging him back, noting that Tim had been working out; that there was some mass to the small, scrawny frame of his body now. And when Tim finally pulled away, Dick was sure he’d grown another inch at least upon getting a good look at him.

He wore his glasses, frames that he now appeared to accept and embrace instead of hide behind. His hair was also longer, so much so it was pulled back into a small pony tail that was now flying out from all the excitement, strands falling around his face. He looked tired, but smiled up wide at Dick, his teeth pretty and his stance confident; a drastic change from the nerdy little high schooler Dick swore he remembered being his younger brother.

“Tim, shit,” Dick held him at arm’s length and gave him a once over just for good measure. “You look…good.”

The younger laughed, a sound Dick was still familiar with, as he quickly pulled Dick in for another tight hug before letting him go. “Oh man, I can’t wait to hear what you say after I’ve slept for a few hours and showered. Come on, I’ll  let you compliment me more while we wait for my bag.”

Dick stared for a moment in silence as Tim started walking towards the luggage carousal, wondering what the hell just happened. Last time he checked, Tim was nothing like this. He swore he’d said goodbye to a little brother that was captain of the chess club, won the science fair four years in a row, and who both Dick and Jason at one point had to drag out of some comic shop or another because the fight over Star Wars was getting too heated. Now, he wasn’t sure he was looking at the same person.

He looked happy for one, which wasn’t a bad thing at all, but Dick knew Tim well enough that spending a night in some airport alone would have left him completely drained, and here Tim now looked pretty put together beyond the tired circles under his eyes. He held his head up while he walked, looked Dick directly in the eye, chatted more so than he could very well remember. As it turned out, college had been very good on Tim.

After getting Tim’s suitcase and walking out to the car, they start out back from the airport, out of the city, towards the manor. Tim sits in the passenger seat, pushes his chair back, and props his feet up onto the dash. Alfred would have killed him, but Dick doesn’t mind. His eyes close and after fifteen minutes of silence, Dick figures Tim fell asleep with his legs propped up, arms crossed over his chest.

He’s wrong.

“How have you been?” The teen asks. Dick dares a glance at him for a moment, finds Tim peering at him through one open eye, his head turned just slightly towards Dick to show he’s paying attention.

Dick smiles. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? First semester of college over and all.”

Tim waves a hand at him, dismissive. The arm of his hoodie nearly cover his entire hand with how big it is. Dick can’t help but wonder if Tim purposefully bought it that big or if it’s someone else’s. “No, no, I’ll save that for everyone, so I don’t have to repeat myself. I’m sure Bruce’s is gonna drill me with questions.” Tim sits up a little bit, shifts so his entire body is now facing Dick. It’s not a safe position. If they were to get into an accident, Tim would very likely get seriously injured, but he looks comfortable. Even if he grew a bit, bulked up, he’s still small enough to manage curling up on a car’s seat without struggle. “But seriously, how’s Bludhaven and the cop business?”

Dick looks at him nearly suspicious, but he gives in. “Fine, I guess. Shit weather makes things difficult though. You’d think robbers would not want to have foot chases while it’s snowing like this. Swear we’ve caught more guys because they’ve slipped on ice then us actually doing anything.”

Tim snorts just a little bit and Dick can’t help but smile, glad to know at least that hasn’t changed about his little brother.

“And? What about the bachelor status?” Tim asks after a beat, his words coming out smoothly where they would have once not come out at all. “Finally gonna be the one bringing someone home for the holidays?”

If they weren’t driving, Dick would have hit Tim. Instead, he shoots him a glare that has Tim cracking up. It’s a low blow that all of them take with Dick, every year, knowing how much Dick hates it. It’s been the only question asked of Dick at ever Wayne Foundation function he’s attended for nearly four years. Jason picked up on it first with the other siblings following suit quickly. It had only gotten worse with Jason moving in with Roy two years prior and Cass and Stephanie getting married last spring—the pair of them were still running around Europe on their ‘extended honeymoon’ and had sent their around the world Christmas card from Rome two weeks before.

“What about you, hu?” Dick counters, eyes back on the road as he turns off for the exit home. “Big college kid now—anyone catch your eye?”

Tim doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at Dick with a look in his eyes that’s not clear enough to read before he’s blinking and turning away, looking out through the window at the snowy world around them. There’s a curl to his lips when he speaks. “Not yet,” he says . “Still waiting to test out the waters.”

It’s opened ended, but Tim doesn’t elaborate. He’s not looking at Dick, not meeting his eye, so Dick doesn’t push it. The fact that Tim’s interested in anyone is a surprising change. He’s not dated anyone or even appeared interested in dating since him and Steph broke up. It wasn’t a bad break up at all, seeing as they’re still best friends and Steph had Tim as her Best Man in the wedding (he wouldn’t wear the matching dresses of Harper or Babs, but she did manage to get him to wear the flowers in his hair like the others). Tim simply never dated; everyone in the family knew and never asked. It was just a simply fact of life.

The rest of the ride is done in a comfortable silence. Tim fiddles with the radio going back and forth over the stations about three times before settling on something that isn’t playing a commercial. He’s still looking out the window, using as much of the door as he can as a pillow while he watches the trees and snow banks pass them by. The world becomes much less gray and much more white as they go, driving up into the more undisturbed parts of Gotham’s outer limits. There’s less slug along the road and Dick has to slow down a bit as the roads are worse up here, less touched by the city plows and narrowed with the weather. Dick’s nearly worried they’d spin out on a patch of ice before reaching the manor, but it doesn’t come to that, they pull up the driveway unscathed.

Tim’s out of the car before Dick’s even stopped fully, forgetting about his luggage all together as he runs up to the front door of the manor, nearly falling on his ass twice along the way, and throwing the doors open to get inside.

Dick’s not quite as rushed, getting Tim’s suitcase and backpack from the back seat before following his snow prints up to the door, hear Tim call out to the house that he was home.

Titus is the first to greet him, the Great Dane bounding from his spot on the couch to come greet Tim, his tail wagging as he stands on his hind legs, forces Tim to catch his weight, so he can lick him hello properly. Titus is just as big as Tim, nearly knocking the teen over with the force of him reaching up, but Tim only staggers back slightly, laughing as he tries to hide his face away from Titus’s tongue.

“Oh man—Titus! Glad to see you too, but seriously, what are you wearing?” Tim manages to get him back down on all fours, petting him as he stares almost horrified by the red and white stripped sweater the dog is wearing. His head whipped back around just as Dick closed the door behind him to keep the cold and snow out, eyes looking surprised. “Damian dresses him up now?”

“He was getting cold.” The voice of Damian comes as if on cue, the youngest of the Wayne kids coming down the stairs looking particularly irritated by all of Tim’s yelling. “It’s not as if I put ribbons on his ears.”

“He puts snow boots on him too.” Dick whispers in Tim’s ear, though it’s not quite enough as Damian quickly looks betrayed.

“I refuse to put my dog in the position of getting infections on his paws because of salt!” He huffs, offended that neither of them would think of that.

Tim grins. “Relax, Dami. We’re just kidding.”

Damian doesn’t look all that reassured, but he doesn’t press the topic further, only ‘tt’ing to himself before clearing his throat. “Well, it’s good to see you didn’t die while getting here, Drake.”

“Aww, he does care!”

Tim doesn’t hug him, but it’s as close as either of them really get. Things got better with them in the past years, after Dick moved away, Cass and Jason moved out, leaving just the two of them in the big house now. Their petty little rivalry died down with age and maturity, learning when either of them needed to be left alone or when they wanted to hang out. Tim picked Damian up from school most days and it wasn’t a strange thing for them to run around doing errands together on the weekends, grab lunch just the two of them. It honestly freaked Bruce out at first, knowing the two youngest who used to want to beat the hell out of each other every other day were getting along. He’d told Dick as such and all Dick did was laugh at him over the phone.

“Where’s Alfred?” Tim asks after, barely letting Damian point in the direction of the kitchen before he’s off running.

Damian watches him go, blinking slowly when Tim disappears around a corner. “He’s…”

“Awake?” Dick fills in and Damian silently agrees. “I’m pretty sure he’s a bit delusional from lack of sleep. You know how he gets.”

Damian does. Tim’s odd sleep schedule has been a thing of infamy in the household. He could sleep for days at some points, but then others he refused to sleep at all, taking up odd hours where many of them found him in the kitchen in the early morning eating ice cream straight out of the tube or pacing in the hallways as if in a sleepwalking daze. Everyone worried.

Thankfully, Tim didn’t push how long he could stay awake today. He said his hellos to Alfred, gathered that Bruce wouldn’t be home until dinner, before he dragged his things up to his bedroom and essentially passed out as soon as his head hit the pillows.

Hours later when he comes down for dinner, Tim’s finally showered away the filth of too much traveling. He’s wearing an old Star Wars shirt Dick’s swore he’s had since he was twelve, which is nice to see he’s still kept around. His hair’s down from the pony tail he had earlier, eyes still groggy looking, but otherwise he’s awake and looking better than when he was picked up.

Bruce hugs him before dinner, saying how he was worried about the weather, how he still thought it would have been a good idea for Tim to have gotten a hotel, but otherwise he’s glad to see him home.

The conversation is dominated by Tim talking about his semester, starting with how he’d gotten only A’s in all of his courses before delving into his social life, a good strategy if Dick’s ever seen one.

It’s surprising, watching Tim so animated, even more so listening to what’s happened over the past few months.

He talks about classes and professor he enjoyed, professors he didn’t, but beyond that he talks about how he goes to lunch every night with a group of friends he’s made, how there’s free movies on campus that he attends, and how his first frat party went—and the very fact that Tim even went to a frat part or even used the word ‘frat’ and himself in the same sentences makes the entire family stare. Not to mention, Bruce’s brow pinch together. Not that Tim’s dumb enough to spill all the details, but it’s easy to put context clues together from personal experience.

Listening to it all, Dick can’t help but see his little brother in a new light. He’s not the kid who spent most of his time playing video games with his friends online, only seeing them when he could. He’s still friends with Bart and Kon and Cassie, Dick knows they’re as tight as ever, but Tim doesn’t go to school with any of them still and it’s odd to find he’s adapted so well with another group.

Dick can say that listening to it all, he grows just a bit protective. He wonders about the details being left out, about all the things Tim deems far too inappropriate to tell to his family at the dinner table. He mentions nothing of his interest in whoever it might have been that caught his eye and can tell when Tim pauses for just a moment to pick his words carefully. He’s gone to college too, he knows all the excitement that happens, but he never imagined Tim to be the type that gets sucked into it all.

He worries probably far more than he should with a heavy weight growing in his stomach the more he thinks of it. The part of him that’s a cop wants to follow Tim back to school and threaten everyone who comes into contact with him to keep Tim safe, out of trouble, though he knows that’s impossible to do without Tim actually hating him.

“So,” Tim veers off, finally stopping for just a moment to take a breath and a bite of the chicken Alfred had cooked. “When’s Jason coming home?”

“Tuesday,” Bruce replies, appearing perfectly happy to not hear about Tim’s extracurricular activities at college any further. Dick swears he was starting to see a vein appear on his forehead. “He’s having pre-Christmas with Roy and Lian before coming.”

“They’re not coming too?”

“No. Apparently Ollie’s been feeling left out. He’s not getting as much face time as he thinks he deserves as a grandfather.”

Damian rolls his eyes and Tim has to cover his mouth as he laughs around the food in it.

“Did Dinah call you?” Tim asks and by the look on Bruce’s face he knows the answer is yes.

Dick had not been home to over hear that conversation, but from what Damian has told him, Bruce had been stuck in his study for over an hour going back and forth over the phone with Dinah and Jason in what has been deemed the most miserable conference call ever. Not that either of them were bad, but Roy and Ollie yelling in the background definitely didn’t help matters much.

“Okay, but seriously,” Dick cuts in, waving his fork around. “When are they getting married?”

“Can you actually picture them having a wedding?” Damian pipes up. “They still don’t even say they’re dating. They’ve been living together for two years.”

“They’ve slept in the same bed for two years!”

“They’re good for each other, that’s all that matters.”

“That was the most dad thing you’ve ever said, B.”  

Bruce sighs heavily, looking to Alfred for some sort of help, but the butler only shrugs and returns with, “It is true, Master Bruce” which only leaves him defenseless and outnumbered against his children. And here he said he was glad for them to be home.

“The three of you are on dish duty.” Bruce says after a moment and all of them quickly shut up. Bruce waits for any argument against it, but none comes and he nods his approval.

He thanks Alfred for the meal before dismissing himself, barely hearing Damian say ‘no, that was the most dad thing he’s ever said’ in a bitter tone to Tim before he leaves the kitchen with a small smile on his face.

Alfred nearly offers to help, but all three of them refuse to even let him get the dishes into the kitchen, telling him to not worry about it as they clear the table and start putting things away.

They all do work together well when they’re not bickering, moving fluidly in the kitchen, around one another easily. Damian puts all the leftovers away, wipes down the counters, as Dick and Tim wash and dry the dishes like a well oiled machine. It gives them time to talk without the wandering parental ear around.

“I didn’t think you liked parties.” Dick starts, handing the first plate to Tim for drying.

“Yeah, well, they’re fun.” Tim shrugs before a wide grin spreads over his face. “I’m apparently really good at beer pong.”

_“Tim.”_

“What? It’s not like I’m playing strip poker.”

“Are you?”

_“Dick.”_

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m good at poker!” Tim persists, flicking water at Dick. “I’d be winning, what’s the problem?”

Damian pokes his head in, presenting a pot to put among the stack of dishes. “So you want to see everyone else naked.”

Tim groans. “Oh my god, Damian, you are not helping anything.”

“At the very least tell me you’re using protection.”

“For strip poker?”

“For sex, Tim.”

“Oh my god, _Dick!_ ” This time, Tim smacks Dick with the towel he’s holding and in return Dick throws soap suds at him. “I’m not—of course I’m using protection!”

“So you are having sex.”

“Dick.”

“This conversation has become three times more disgusting then I anticipated.” Damian interrupts once more, putting down the rest of the stacked pots and pans as loudly as he can without breaking anything. He’s glaring at the two of them for a solid three second, making sure they know just how upset he is by all of this before taking out his ipod and shoving the headphones in to his ears so he could ignore them properly. “I’ve done my duty, I’m now leaving to forget everything I just heard.”

Both Dick and Tim let him go without much argument on the matter. Dick watched him leave and made sure the door had come to a full close before once more reeling on Tim, washing the dishes at nearly a snail’s pace so he could get more information out of him.

“I’m just trying to make sure—“

“You sound like Bruce, Dick.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not hot at all.”

Dick pauses, blinks for a second and has to think about that last statement for a long while. He realizes he’s staring when Tim’s staring back at him, having dried all the done dishes and waiting for the next ones that Dick’s still supposed to be washing.

Tim half glares at him, giving him a look as if Dick had two heads and he’d not just called him hot. “What?” He finally says. “I can’t acknowledge you’re good looking? Everyone knows you’re hot, it’s really not a surprise.”

It’s a comment that’s just a throw away, something that Tim can easily shrug off and Dick can accept because it is true. He doesn’t look deeper into it, figures he doesn’t have to, because it’s not like Jason’s not called him hot before, it’s only that Dick’s never heard Tim refer to him with such a blatant term.  

Dick’s unable to come back with anything. His mouth flounders for a bit before he snaps it closed quickly and returns to washing the rest of the dishes quietly. Tim huffs just a little bit, nearly unnoticeable under his breath, but Dick catches it and can’t understand why. It’s a sound he mostly associates with Damian, not Tim, and it nearly sounded…disappointed.

There’s no time to ask as Tim dries the bigger pots, puts them away, and then leaves the rest of the dishes in the drying rack to finish his job for him. He leaves the kitchen without another word and Dick can’t help but watch him go, wondering what exactly was up with his little brother now.

—

Tim slept for the rest of the night, nothing surprising at all, and for most of the next morning. Everyone in the house was up much earlier than him. Bruce heading off to the office around seven.  Alfred finishing off some last minute decorating outside with Dick and Damian’s help (Dick stood on the ladder, Damian stood down below bundled up shouting helpful advice like ‘Don’t fall, Grayson!’ while Titus bounded around them in the snow). After, Dick took Damian into the city to grab coffee and breakfast.

Getting back home, they found Tim finally awake in the living room, standing still in his pajamas with a blanket around his shoulders staring up at the still naked Christmas tree. Dick handed him the coffee they’d picked up for him. Tim took it without even looking.

“We’ve been waiting for you and Jason.” Dick comments, standing beside Tim looking up at the tree.

There was another one a few feet taller than this out in their entrance way. It stood massive and decorate to look professional—matching ornaments of old and red, garlands hanging perfectly spaced all up the tree with lights that made it glimmer. That tree was for the Christmas party on Wednesday, something to make the manor look regal, but the tree in the living room belonged to the family.

Tim takes a sip of his coffee. “Who gets to climb it to put the star on top this year?”

“Drawing straws, better chances with Cass still across the ocean.”

“Tt, the only ones capable of not destroying it while doing so are Drake and I.”

“Hey! Last year I did a perfectly good job of getting it up!”

“Dick, you climbed up on the fireplace and fell off, nearly setting yourself on fire.”

Dick scoffed, offended. “But I didn’t set myself on fire and I got the star up, those are the only things that mattered.”

“Whatever. Drake—get dressed. We’re going shopping for presents.”

Tim throws up a thumbs-up as he takes another drink before shuffling off towards the stairs with the blanket still over his shoulders.

Shopping a week before Christmas is dangerous, but the Wayne kids like a challenge and as soon as they get to the mall they have a battle plan hashed out with time limits, meeting places, and the emergency signal if anyone needs help. They go into it like war, though blows have never actually fallen on them just yet, only fierce arguments that have ended with security having to break up the heated words and Bruce yelling at them when an article is written up about it in three gossip magazines the next day.

Today though they’re lucky and nothing gets bad enough that there’d be a nasty headline in the papers—Dick jokes it should be Bruce’s Christmas present, though all of them agree the issue is Jason’s not with them that year—and they’re driving back towards the Manor before the sun’s even started to set.

The real danger comes when they get home and Damian is taking too long to get his bags out of the trunk.

The first snowball hits him dead in the side of the head, sending the earbuds in Damian’s ears flying from the force. He whirls around, fire in his eyes, and stares back at a grinning Tim.

With shopping, it’s no man left behind. With snowball fights, it’s every man for himself.

It starts getting deadly as Damian dives behind a tree, starting  to build up his ammunition, all the while Dick’s been collecting a hug armful of snow and quickly dumps it all over Tim before he has time to turn around.

Tim spins, smashes a snowball right in Dick’s face to show him the fault in his close combat method. Their fighting leaves them completely opened for attack, however, and Damian’s got enough snowballs built up now to start pelting them both with them.

All of them are too distracted to see or hear the car pull up the driveway, the new addition going completely undetected until a snowball is thrown against Damian’s back, pausing his reign of terror on Dick and Tim as the three of them look for the new enemy.

Jason stands at his car, grinning from ear to ear with two snowballs rolled up perfectly in his hands. He’s come home a few days early. There’s a moment of silence where one could hear a penny drop before Jason suddenly yelling, jumping, and all three of them move to attack.

It’s a bloody battle, brother against brother, until there’s a moment where they pair off, Dick verses Tim and Jason verses Damian. Jason’s got the skill, but Damian smaller, faster. Dick’s close proximity attacks are throwing Tim off who’s better with longer distances and aim. Damian jumps on Jason’s back, Dick spots this and decides to do the same.

Except he’s much bigger than Tim, heavier, and the sudden weight of him against Tim sends them both toppling to the ground, rolling around in the snow, wrestling for an advantage and dominance.

Dick’s got Tim pinned below him, laughing as the younger shakes snow from his face and feeling him struggle fruitlessly even though when Tim presses there’s much more force behind it then Dick ever remembers. Dick’s still laughing when Tim stops struggling. There’s still snow in his hair, snowflakes falling in his face and little droplets of water on his skin from where they’ve melted with his body heat. Dick’s laughing until he realizes this; looks down and finds Tim staring up at him, chest heaving, and Dick almost immediately shuts up.

The sun is bright and warm though the earth around them is cold and every time Tim breathes Dick can feel the heat of it, see how the air curls and clouds from his lips. Dick can feel himself frown as he keeps looking, keeps staring, mesmerized by the very sight of Tim’s mouth, parted so softly to gulp down air. His scarf has opened up in all the horse play, his jacket wet and growing wetter. Dick is suddenly very aware of how his weight pushed on Tim’s wrists, how he kneels beside his hips, how if Tim just moved a little bit Dick could do the same and—

_“OOF!”_

Dick goes flying from where he was, tackled off of Tim by another huge force that wrestles him to the ground. It’s a good fight, but Dick ends up on his stomach pinned with the heavy weight on his back and he can’t get up.

“Jason!” He calls out, glaring over his shoulder at his snickering brother. “Get the hell—“

“DOG PILE!”

Dick has half a second to brace for impact before both Tim and Damian come running to jump on and add to the pile, the weight of them both getting thrown down hard across Dick, knocking the wind from his lungs.

They’re all laughing except for Dick who simply can’t breathe and when he finally manages to convey that they all roll off to the sides, holding their stomach as Dick takes in a deep breath, staying where he was on the ground as more laughter rises to his throat.

“Oh my god, Jay, you’re such an asshole.”

Jason snickers, reaches over to pat Dick on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’m glad to be home too, Dickie. Thanks for the warm welcome.”

For the sarcasm, Dick rolls up a nice firm snowball and throws it directly in his face, just in case Jason was starting to feel left out.

—

They all manage to get inside and Alfred looks as scandalized as Alfred can get at this point—the slight raise of a unsurprised brow—with the sight of the boys with snow clumped all together in their clothes, shivering, and dripping wet.

He sighs just a bit and turns heel. “I’ll get towels and make a large batch of hot chocolate.”

Twenty minutes later when they’re all dried off, gripping mugs of hot chocolate with way too many marshmallows floating in them (or whipped cream for Damian), and sitting in the living room with the fireplace roaring, Jason looks up at the tree and squints, thoughtful.

“Okay, so who gets to put up the star?”

Alfred interrupts the thought quickly.  “After ornaments, Master Jason.” Making sure to finish the comment with a hard look as if to tell them all no one should be climbing the tree to put up the star—Alfred’s gone through more than a decade of this and a large portion of hospital visits in the family have revolved around the horrible tradition.

Jason’s broken his arm. Tim’s needed stitches in his leg. Cassandra’s dislocated both wrists, different years. Dick’s got ‘battle’ scars on nearly every limb of his body and Damian last year busted open his brow and now had an interesting scar of white just over his left eye.

“Fine, fine, ornaments first.” Jason agreed with a wicked smile and then quickly regretted it as Alfred cuffed him on the ear, neither of them too old for a little discipline.  

“And remember you must wait for Master Bruce to come home.”

No one complained about that. It wasn’t Christmas tree decorating without Bruce scolding them all, pinching the bridge of his nose, or getting distracted by every other homemade ornament or one that had a picture on any of them sitting on Santa’s lap—one of last year’s gifts to Bruce had been a horribly made popsicle stick picture frame with macaroni pasta colored in red and green glued to it, but inside was a picture of all his kids with a mall Santa. He’d stared at it for a very, very, long time before putting it up on the tree. Jason said he saw him crying but everyone else wasn’t sure.

The sun was just going down when Bruce did finally walk in the door, almost immediately getting bombarded with his sons running out to drag him into the living room to start decorating before he could even get off his shoes. They pulled off his coat and scarf before shoving him down into his recliner and pushing an old box of Christmas ornaments at him.

“Well, nice to see you too, Jason.”

Jason all but mutters his greeting, waving Bruce off as he starts hunting through another box searching for the ornaments he wants to put up.

They’ve all got their own.

Dick has a scary amount of clown ornaments that everyone has deemed way too creepy for Christmas, but Dick still likes them mostly out of spite and hanging nearly all of them at the back of the tree facing the wall.

Jason’s got a whole set of ninja turtles of years back, the little Santa hats on all of them either chipped or fallen off, but the four of them have all been named after one of the brothers—Damian is still horribly insulted he got stuck with Mickey.

Tim has a variety of power rangers, star wars, and Barbie ornaments that he strings up all across the tree, always saying he wants to keep things ‘classic’. A few years ago, he used to be assigned putting on candy canes, but those quickly got taken out of the mix when half the box would be eaten before the night was out.

Damian had dogs of every kind and size, mostly because he buys them as donations to shelters around Gotham.

And Cass somehow managed to put together a collection of Halloween Christmas ornaments, some bought, some handmade, consisting of witches, bats, pumpkins, and a variety of horror movie characters.

Alfred puts on the normal ornaments, deemed necessary when the kids wouldn’t be careful enough with the glass bulbs, and Bruce got to put up anything with a picture in it or looked like it was made in school.

The tree was a jumbled mess of various ornaments with rainbow lights flashing around it and tinsel hanging from the branches that Dick always insisted on throwing around even though it made a horrible mess everywhere. It made absolutely no sense and Dick wondered sometimes how the tree managed to keep standing with the mess that was their decorations hanging from it.

But, well, they weren’t completely finished. And sometimes the tree really didn’t make it.

“So…” Jason starts once the last ornament was in place, standing proud in front of the great tree. “Who wants to grab straws?”

From his chair, Bruce groans.

—

It’s a flop.

All of them are very upset, except for Bruce and Alfred of course.

“No, no, no, what is the _point_ of this?” Jason says for about the third time before throwing himself angrily onto the couch. Damian’s sitting next to him, arms crossed tight across his chest and glaring hard as his father climbs a ladder like a person who’s actually concerned about their safety to put the star safely on top of the tree.

The gasp let out by the four brothers is actually audible in the room.

“I’m so sorry I wouldn’t let you throw yourself from the ceiling fan to get a star onto the tree.” Bruce rolls his eyes, looking down at his defeated children all personally offended nothing has been broken, person or furniture.

Bruce had played for Cass. He’d played dirty, telling them all the odds still needed to be fair and with Cass not present he’d be taking her spot. Tim kept whining about how Cass would have done some sort of ‘sick’ move to jump off the wall and throw the star into place. Dick only looked on as if Bruce had just slapped him in the face.

There’s plenty more moaning and groaning until Alfred comes to refill mugs and bring out a batch of cookies. It’s a dirty trick that always worked as each siblings quieted down almost instantly to eat and drink.

“So how’s our little college boy?” Jason manages to get out right after cramming a sugar cookie into his mouth.

“He’s a party animal, Jay.” Dick replies before Tim can, throwing his hand over his forehead for a dramatic flair. Tim’s just out of reach of kicking him. “Our baby brother is all grown up.”

“I’m not that bad,” Tim comes to his own defense. “I got all straight A’s. Most of my nights still consist of not studying and playing with Kon and Bart online. Nothing’s changed.”

“Liar.” Dick says before he can actually think of how to defend the accusation, something that is now becoming apparent as the family turns to look at him, all waiting for something to follow. “I mean,” Dick sits up a bit on the spot, glancing at Bruce than Jason before landing on Tim who’s peering at him intently, looking as if he were on the edge of his seat waiting for the answer. “You’re just more—put together.”

Tim snorts. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Dick bites his cheek. “It is, actually. You’re grown up, Timmy.” The half-smile on Tim’s face sort of falls after that, his expression coming to rest on a neutral gaze that Dick found so frustrating he couldn’t read. He used to be able to read Tim so well. “Out living so far away from the rest of us, you’re on your own and you’re doing…good. Really good, seriously. I’m just, you know, proud of you.”

If Tim blushes, Dick can’t tell. The lights from the tree are casting his face in a combination of colors in the dimly lit room, though Dick can say that when the red lights flicker on, he really does like the color cast along Tim’s cheeks.

“Gross,” Damian cuts in and Dick’s head snaps, his eyes tearing away from Tim to look at his youngest brother who’s pushing his empty mug onto the coffee table and standing up. “I think I’m done with the family bonding tonight. Grayson’s getting emotional enough for all of us.”

Bruce spoke up before Damian could manage darting out of the room. “Just remember we have the annual Christmas party tomorrow.”

Damian didn’t groan, but he did roll his eyes before leaving the room before Bruce could reprimand him. It wasn’t like they weren’t all used to it, the Wayne Enterprise annual Christmas party. It was for any employee capable of going as well as some of the members of the Gotham high society. It acted as a thank you as well as a small charity event with silent auctions.

For the siblings, it only meant they had to dress up and play nice for a night. Usually Dick, Jason, and Tim were okay. Jason and Dick were usually the charming of the children and Tim was able to talk with board members like none other. Cass and Damian were the two feeling out of place. Neither of them liked the large crowds and Cass wasn’t particularly fond of all the unfamiliar faces. Damian, however, being the youngest got dotted on by every woman who stepped through the doors. They liked commenting on how handsome he was, how he looked like his father, pinched his cheeks, claiming he’d be a knock out with the ladies one day. He hated it and, at this point, Damian knew he only had to deal with fifteen minutes of saying hello to all the guests before he was able to disappear up to his room or even into the kitchen with Titus for the rest of the night.

“I guess we should all start hittin’ the hay then.” Jason muttered, pushing himself up from the couch to stretch before heading out, followed with Tim and Dick in toe.  

It was always fun getting ready for bed while everyone was doing so. Years ago when they were all still much younger, Bruce used to run up and down the hall trying to make sure each of his kids had brushed their teeth and were also actually staying in bed when he left them with the lights out. Now, it wasn’t so much a constant battle for Bruce, but still when you have five children things bumped around a bit.

“Hey—mind if I brush my teeth with you?” Tim pokes his head into the bathroom that’s technically designated ‘Dick’s’ even if it’s not in his room, it’s the closest one to him. “Jason says the shower head in his is busted and stole mine hostage. He’s singing a really poor rendition of _Call Me Maybe_ and I cannot take it.”

Dick chokes a little bit on the toothpaste in his mouth when he chuckles unable to speak with a toothbrush and foam in his mouth, but nods his yes, waving Tim in and shifting over to give him a little bit of room at the sink.

Tim beams and moves in, brushing his teeth quietly as Dick finishes up and goes for the mouthwash. In the quiet of the bathroom, they can just barely make out the sound of Jason wailing lyrics down the hall, very clearly trying to be obnoxious as possible in an attempt to get attention.

“Oh man,” Tim spits, rinsing off his toothbrush. “I really don’t know how Roy hasn’t killed him yet.”

Dick grins before spitting out his mouthful, rinsing his mouth out while Tim cleans up his own. “It’s true love, Timmy. Obnoxious true love.”

They both wince when Jason hits a particularly high tone, a second later hearing Titus start barking and what is very likely Damian banging against his bedroom wall trying to get Jason to shut up. It’s always a struggle living in an old house with thin walls.

“Ah, home sweet home…” Tim sighs happily, moving towards the bathroom door right when Dick does and they get caught, bumping shoulders.

“Shit—“

“Sorry.”

“No, like, shit, look.” Dick points up and Tim’s eye follows.

Mistletoe.

It was Alfred’s favorite decoration, mostly because he thought it was hilarious to watch people stutter about underneath it. Every year it’s somewhere different, hanging in a different doorway or archway. One year he put it above the front door so everyone coming in and anyone answering it had to awkwardly stand there shifting about on their feet.

And this year he apparently thought it was a good idea to put it in the hallway bathroom where Tim and Dick were now standing.

Dick laughed, chopped and awkward. “I can’t believe he still does this, I mean honestly…” His voice trails off as he shakes his head, looking back down at Tim who— “Tim?”

He’s staring at him. His eyes look a little cloudy and he’s standing there perfectly still with his lips parted slightly and he’s not moving at all, not talking, just staring at Dick with this look in his eye and—

“Ti—“

Dick doesn’t get the chance to say the name again. The word is stolen from him as lips cover his own and Tim’s standing up on his toes to kiss him. Kiss him. Dick’s frozen in his spot completely taken back as Tim, his little brother, kisses him hard, his hands gripping Dick’s arms tightly as if he was afraid that Dick would pull away, push him away, which he should, shit, he really should.

But then the moment’s gone. Tim’s back on his feet and not kissing Dick, just staring at him again and for a moment Dick thinks what just happened was a hallucination, but his lips feel tingly, pressed. He looks at Tim who’s blushing now, red coloring his cheeks quickly.

“S-sorry,” He says, sounding more like the brother Dick remembered six months ago then he had since he picked him up from the airport.

Dick can’t grab him to explain himself or even say anything before Tim’s pushing past him through the doorway and down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

He’s not entirely sure if he should follow him. Dick blinks himself out of the stunned state and nearly darted after Tim, but he just didn’t….know.

That wasn’t a brotherly kiss. They’d all messed around when caught under the mistletoe before, but this was something different. This kiss had intent behind it, a serious gesture that Tim had thought about, had wanted, had gone through and actually kisses him.

Dick’s fingers hover over his lips, not exactly touching, but nearly so. He can feel the heat of his skin against them; feel his breath when he exhales.

“Fuck.” He says before moving from the hall into his own room to think.

—

Dick can’t get it out of his head. He’d been awake most of the night thinking about the way Tim looked, the blush on his face, how he ran off right afterwards. He was exhausted in the morning, but still rose at his usual time and went downstairs for breakfast with Tim nowhere in sight at the table. It wasn’t something to worry about. Tim always slept in if he had the chance, but right now Dick wanted to see him, wanted to talk, though he still wasn’t positive that would be the right choice. He wondered if he should just ignore it, pretend like it never happened.

He didn’t tell anyone, not Jason or Damian, Bruce or Alfred. He ate in mostly silence, just listening to everyone else talk back and forth while Dick stared unfocused down into his cereal, not even caring when it got soggy.

He notices Jason giving him a side-eye look of concern, but that’s all.

When Tim did finally come down from his bedroom, he was showered and dressed already in black slacks and a button down dark red shirt. Dick saw him, but didn’t say anything. He looked good, nearly wanted to tell him that, but decided to keep his distance. It was easy when the party preparations started with Bruce and Alfred directing the caterers around to where they needed to set up, talking to the hired wait staff, valets, and bartenders.

The hours pass quickly and the manor is turned into a party hall instead of a home. They’re all used to the change as it happens nearly four or five times a year depending on what events are planned and holidays Bruce decides to personally host. Damian’s quick to rush any of his own personally belongings that are laying about upstairs to his room with a grumble.

By six, they’re all cleaned and dressed up. Alfred gives the four of them a once over and a correction to Jason’s hair, Dick’s tie, before releasing them with the seal of approval. There’s an hour left before anyone starts coming and they use the time to mentally prepare and steal some of the little finger foods and appetizers set up in the kitchen before Alfred or Bruce can smack their hands away.

Dick still hasn’t talked to Tim yet, but there’s not an awkward air between them. It’s honestly all in Dick’s head as he’s been stiff and standoffish all day, still wondering what happened the night before and why Tim would kiss him like he had. Tim’s leaning against the kitchen counter completely relaxed, popping a mini quiche into his mouth as he reads Jason’s texts over his shoulder. Apparently Roy’s already sending SOS messages and he’s only been with Ollie for day now.

It’s nearly disappointing when they finally have to leave the kitchen as guests start arriving. Ever the good children of Bruce Wayne, they mingle around instead of standing in the corner of the room like they truly want.

Dick quickly loses sight of Tim as he gets snatched up by a pair of elderly woman dressed with furs across their shoulders and diamonds on their necks. Dick’s always been popular with the older crowds of women that flock the manor during these events. They like to touch his arms, squeeze to feel beneath the cloth of his suit jacket. It’s almost funny having them flirt and Dick’s not above flirting back—he’s suave and charming in these situations, knows how to talk to anyone easily. He flexes his arms so the woman can giggle and fan themselves. They talk and joke and somewhere along the way Dick has a glass of champagne pushed into his hands, though he doesn’t drink it. He hates drinking during these things, much prefers to stay sober just in case—mainly it comes down to the woman getting drunk and happy quickly, grabbing more then he’d prefer, and when Dick starts to feel a hand slide down along his back he knows it’s time to dismiss himself.

He ventures outside for some air, the snow having been shove off of the sidewalks and ways, a fire lit surrounded by the patio furniture where some people sit with blankets around their shoulders, drinking, eating, laughing. It’s nice out here, peaceful, with no more snow falling from the sky and the darkness of the grounds surrounding the small light that is Wayne Manor. There’s a small band playing just inside, their music traveling out the doors in contrast to the sound of crashing waves from the ocean out in the distance.

Dick takes a deep breath and sighs, letting the heat of too many bodies leave him and clear his head of expensive perfume. He dumps the flute of champagne out over the rail that he’s leaning on, watching it splash out into the snowy ground below him.

“Aw,” he hears behind him. “That was perfectly good champagne.”

Dick turns to find Tim at him back with an easy smile on his lips. He’s got a glass of wine in his hands, half empty, and his cheeks are rosy; his eyes a little dimmed. He steps forward still perfectly stable on his feet to lean up against the rail as well, sipping at his wine.

It’s strange, seeing Tim drink. The most Dick’s ever seen him have is a glass of champagne and even then Tim used to dump half of it out before he was done. Now, it seems he’d had a little bit of everything, though he’s not quite drunk just yet. Dick’s sure someone in the family would have seen him before then and cut him off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Dick says, turning his gaze away from his brother to look out towards the fire, refuses to let the tight coil in his stomach win out. “Who knows what those cougars put in it.”

Tim laughs and it’s light and airy. It’s easy to think nothing’s happened between them. “To be fair, you do encourage them.”

Dick smiles, shaking his head as he lets it hang down at his shoulders. “Half of them are widows. I’ve gotta give them something to look forward to every year.”

“Collect their spank bank material for the new year?”

Dick chokes on the laughter in his throat. “What?” He says after a moment of coughing. “What did you just say?”

Tim turns towards him and grins. His eyes are blue and pretty and glassy and Dick knows he shouldn’t be thinking stuff like that. “Spank bank. Though, I guess it’s probably different for girls.”

“Jesus, what are you learning in college?”

“What? Dick, you’re like…everyone’s wet dream. That shouldn’t be surprising.”

Am I your wet dream? Dick thinks, nearly says it, but knows that’ll be bad. Knows Tim would probably run off like he did the night before and really they need to talk about that. He can’t just have this conversation as if they hadn’t kissed under mistletoe the night before—that Tim hadn’t kissed him like he’d really wanted to.

“Tim,” he begins, but apparently he’s taken too long to open his mouth as Tim’s finished off his wine and his attention wanes, leaving his empty glass and Dick to wander back towards the open doors inside. “Tim.” Dick calls after him, following him in even if this is definitely not the atmosphere to be discussing why his little brother kissed him last night.

He’s trying to keep up with Tim, but the party has grown thick with people and it’s late enough in the night that many of them have had a little too much to drink. He tries to be as polite as possible pushing passed guests, a mantra of ‘excuse me’ leaving his mouth as he does his best to keep up with Tim who’s dipping in and out of bodies much easier than Dick is.

He finally catches him at the bar, pulling Tim away as he’s ordering another drink.

“Hey!” Tim says, but Dick doesn’t listen to his cry, not even thinking about it much as he drags Tim away from the bar, from the people, bringing him down into the hallway leading towards the library where the crowd starts to thin. “Dick, I was trying to get a drink!”

Dick doesn’t look back at him. “Since when did you drink so much?” He’s running entirely on adrenaline at this point, his heart thumping hard in his chest. If he thinks about it too long he’s going to get cold feet and never touch on the matter with Tim, let it die, and he really doesn’t want to do that. It’s been only a day and it’s starting to eat Dick up inside, he doesn’t want to know what Tim might be feeling.

“Di—“

He pulls Tim into the library, closing the heavy door behind him, the noise from the party being cut off immediately, throwing them both into the quiet of old books and leather. Dick’s got Tim by the arm still as he pushes him up against the door with as little force as he dares, pinning Tim to where he stands.

“Why did you kiss me?” He blurts out before he can grow unsure of it and almost instantly does when Tim goes stiff under his hand.

He doesn’t know how to take it back, but he wants to. Tim looks instantly uncomfortable, his eyes darting down to escape Dick and it’s scary to watch Tim transform back into the little nerdy brother he knew a year ago right before his very eyes.

Tim doesn’t say anything for a long time and it’s so unnerving that Dick lets him go. He’s made a mistake, he knows, and he honestly wishes he could take it back, but he can’t and right now he feels like the best thing to do is just go back to the party and ignore everything like he should have in the first place.

Dick goes to do just that Tim when finally moves, stops him with a hand on his arm and Dick stops with the touch. His grip isn’t strong. He’s hoping Dick won’t run off on him.

“Dick…” There’s another long moment of silence, which Dick lets Tim take because he’s waiting and he’s sure whatever he’s going to say won’t be easy. “You…you really don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

His body goes cold and he wishes they were still outside, wishes there was a good reason for it beyond the shock of his brother admitting he’d wanted to kiss him for a while—years, possibly.

He sighs, runs a heavy hand through his hair. “Tim…”

Tim’s quick to interrupt. “No, don’t. Really, don’t just…I don’t need you to start dismissing me. Fuck, I’m sorry and I know it was stupid of me to do, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’d do it again.”

The way that Tim’s speaking makes Dick want him to stop. It’s an all too familiar voice of self deprecation that Tim’s struggled with before, that they’ve all had to become aware of and help it change. It’s a full one-eighty from the person Dick picked up nearly a week before who smiled easily and put his feet up on the dash and talked without fearing what his words might do when they’re out of his own mouth.

It makes Dick sick. It makes him remember how his little brother was in high school, how he took a while to smile, how he kept to himself, how he’s never been able to look Dick in the eye for long. It’s not how he wants Tim to be, because he wants Tim to be happy, care free. He wants him to go off and enjoy himself even if he does come back changed and looking like someone Dick only just recognizes and then he wonders how much of Tim’s suffering was because of having to be so closed off regarding his feelings towards Dick, how he’d worried and wondered how it would all be taken if anyone ever found out. He knows it’s not all about that, he knows Tim’s mental health doesn’t revolve around him, but he’s sure it didn’t help; sure there was always some small part of his brain knowing this only made the smallest of bad days worse.

“Tim.”

“It won’t happen again.” Tim continues as if not even hearing his own name, probably didn’t. He’s shaking a bit now, letting go of Dick’s arm, stepping back. “I swear, it was just coming home and seeing you again and I thought I’d be clever and try, but it’s all just fucked up and it won’t—“

 _“Tim.”_ Dick presses, his voice firm as he moves into Tim’s space, puts his hands on Tim’s shoulders and squeezes, makes sure he knows that Dick’s there, that he hasn’t run off because of what he’s admitting.

When Tim finally goes quiet, Dick puts a finger under his chin. “Look at me, okay?” He doesn’t push, but it takes a second and Dick helps Tim lift up his head, looking Dick in the eye. Tim’s eyes are shiny wet, the unfocused nature from the alcohol all but gone from them as he looks on. Dick smiles gently. “You’re thinking too much. You need to breathe.” He waits for Tim to do just that, watching his chest expand out then in again. “Good. Now…I don’t want you thinking you’ve fucked up somehow. I’m not—last night was surprising. I had no idea you felt like that.”

Tim winces ever so slightly, averts his eyes once more before bringing them back up. “I have. Since I was fifteen. I never thought to act on it, I know you’re my brother and all—“

“We’re adopted, Tim.”

“You don’t think the people out there would care about that?” Tim glares, nodding towards the door and its true, Dick can’t deny it. But…but…

“This isn’t about them right now.” Dick settles, decides not to dwell on that problem right now. “It’s me and you. That’s it.”

“You’re saying that like we’re actually together.”

“We can be.”

The words leave Dick’s mouth before he can stop them. It’s not a lie, but he didn’t know it was the truth either. Tim’s gone still again, stiff against him. He’s looking at Dick with wide eyes and he’s not breathing much and Dick might think he’s doing the same.

It really isn’t a lie. Dick’s not been in a relationship with anyone in a while, but thinking about one with Tim…

He’s smart and clever and beautiful. He’s just as lovingly adorable as he is irritating and Dick’s seen him grow up, move out, and now he’s back for just a few weeks and the idea of Tim leaving again does suck, but Dick doesn’t mind. He likes the thought. The idea of waking up with Tim is appealing beyond what he’s ever thought to admit to himself.

Dick licks his lips, takes a deep breath. He’s very aware of his heart beating against his ribs right now. “I said I was surprised by the kiss, not that I didn’t like it.”

Tim’s still silent. He’s still. He hasn’t blinked since Dick first said that they could be and it’s probably a bad idea with Tim appearing to be in shock, being distressed, but Dick can’t quite help himself.

He kisses him.

Tim’s mouth is soft, his lips taste like red wine instead of toothpaste, and Dick’s worried he’s made a mistake when there’s no reaction. He tries a little harder, moves closer to Tim until their chests are together; sliding his hand down Tim’s shoulder to his lower back, pushing him in closer, deepening the kiss, until Tim finally melts.

Every muscle in his body seems to relax as his eyes flutter shut and he presses back into the kiss. Dick takes a bit of his weight, holding Tim close as he feels the other’s arms come up around him, draping along the back of his neck.

The soft kiss becomes more when Dick pulls away for a quick breath of air. Tim opens his eyes again and they lock onto Dick’s own. The entire room is silent for a full second before they’re both suddenly moving forward, mouths crashing together in a manner that is both awkward and violent, but Tim moans into it anyway.

Dick delves into Tim’s open mouth, coaxing his tongue to slide against Dick’s own. He hums and Tim’s fingers curl into the nape of Dick’s neck, sliding through his hair just as Dick starts to move them backwards, directing them while still keeping the kiss as intact as possible, only pulling away to get a different angle, bite at Tim’s bottom lip, memorize the glassy look of want in his eyes.

Tim’s back hits the back of the sofa set up among the shelves and shelves of books. They’re at an odd angle, not close enough so Dick can push him down onto it even though he wants to, so he simply pushes him against the harder surface and devours his mouth further.

His fingers slide down Tim’s back, ghost along the swell of his ass in the fitted slacks before moving to his sides, feeling his thighs and squeezing. Dick wants to grab him, lift Tim up, gets his legs around his waist, but the chance never comes.

A loud thump against the door jars them apart, Dick jumping back as he whips around to see who might be disturbing them.

The door doesn’t open, but there’s another thump, and both are looking at each other curious for a moment before they both clear their throats, smooth out their clothes, and go to crack the door open.

It’s a couple from the party, looking very obviously drunk, tangled within each other and trying to rip the other’s clothes off with clumsy fingers. They don’t even realize Dick and Tim are suddenly watching them, far too engaged in one another and Tim can’t help but snicker at the sight.

“I think we need to warn Alfred before they get carried away and stain the wallpaper.” He whispers out and Dick has to agree. They ease out of the library as silently as they can, closing the door behind them before darting off down the hall to warn the butler of the couple.

Tim’s smiling again. His lips look a bit swollen and red and there’s a small part of Dick that’s proud of that. He wants to grab for Tim’s hand, hold it while they walk, but he doesn’t. Their fingers just barely graze one another before they’re back into the throngs of the party.

—

The next morning everyone sleeps in. Jason’s hung over by the time he manages to make it downstairs, muttering something about ‘danger’ and ‘open bar’ while he pours a big mug of coffee, grabs a plate of toast and eggs, before disappearing back up to his room. Bruce has yet to show his face, though Alfred assures them that all of the female guests got home safe last night and none of them has to worry about a woman trying to sneak out of the manor with her clutch and heels in hand.

Alfred is the saint that he is and performed another miracle as the manor is just as picked up and clean as before the party started. Even Damian has transferred his video game console and art supplies back to where he likes them.

It’s a quiet morning for them, as most Christmas Eve’s are. There’s nowhere to be and no one that needs their attention. It’s nice and lazy and filled with naps that expand through the day of lying about on the couch watching Christmas movies.

Dick and Tim share glances and looks. They only touch a little and when Dick falls asleep in the living room during The Polar Express, Tim joins him, curls up alongside of him as best he can on the small space not meant for two. Dick doesn’t say it’s a bad idea. It’s not an unusual sight to find anyone in the manor sleeping alongside each other, though Dick does dare to nuzzle his nose against Tim’s neck, kissing himself softly as he feels Tim wriggles against him with soft laughter from the sensation. It feels right, holding Tim around the waist to make sure he doesn’t fall from the couch, him against his chest, listening as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep easily. He doesn’t even mind when Tim drools on the pillows.

—

“Where the hell are you going?” Jason yawns, having finally come down from his cave of a bedroom to find Tim dressing in a thick jacket and sweater to go outside.

“I need to pick up one more thing, I won’t be long.”

Jason looks at him like he’s crazy. “It’s Christmas Eve and it’s late. What the hell is even open?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “It’s only five and plenty of places are open. I won’t be long. Tell Alfred to not wait for me, I’ll eat whatever’s leftover.”

Jason doesn’t stop him from going, but he still looks at him like he’s completely mad for wanting to drive into the city to go shopping on Christmas Eve. Tim’s stubborn and Jason doubts anything he says would be able to stop him, so he just lets him go with a shrug.

“He left?” Dick asks, sounding just as surprised when Jason tells him, settling with another mug of coffee on the end of the couch that Dick’s not occupying. “What present could he possibly need?”

“Didn’t say,” Jason shrugs, blowing steam from his cup. “Sort of goes along with the whole ‘present’ thing.”

Dick purses his lips together but says nothing more, just turns back down to the book he’s been reading. He only gets another paragraph in until his attention dissipates and he’s just staring at the page, not taking in any of the words, thinking.

“Hey,” he finally says, looking up at Jason. “Does Tim seem happy to you?”

It’s not so much a strange question, but one that comes out of nowhere and hits Jason blind. He blinks up at Dick from above his coffee, raising a brow at his older brother.

“Ah,” Jason puts down the mug from his mouth and thinks about it. “Yeah, I think so.” He settles on, but knows that sounds uncertain and tries for something more reassuring. “He’s definitely better than I’ve seen him in a while. He sounds like he’s really enjoying college, says he has friends, getting his usual grades… he’s smiling a lot more.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees, settles back into the couch with his book forgotten on his lap. “He has been smiling a lot, hasn’t he?”

“And he’s been eating.” Jason puts in. “Always a good sign. I think he’s okay, Dick. What he’s doing or been doing he’s been good.” He takes a sip from his coffee, takes longer to swallow it then normal. “I’d say he’s happy.”

That secures something inside of Dick, pushes aside worries he’s had recently, wondering about Tim having gone to school so far away from anyone who would be able to help him if anything bad were to happen. He knows Tim can take care of himself, but there’s always going to be that silent part of him that worries and it helps to know Tim’s happy. That he’s okay, really honestly okay.

“What about you?” Dick asks. “You and Roy still going strong?”

It’s evident by the way that Jason smiles that they are. It’s a private sort of smile that’s attached to a private sort of thought and Dick’s honestly just glad that his brother’s found someone like Roy. Someone that he’s got as an anchor to keep him grounded.

“Lian calls me ‘papa Jay’.” His smile widens and he throws a hand over his eyes, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. “She’s gonna to be five in two months, Dick, can you believe that? I miss them both like crazy and that’s…that’s so stupid, isn’t? It’s been like, two days.”

Dick holds back his own smile, his chest growing warm for Jason having something like that—a little family of his own. Someone he can go home to when things get rough, when him and Bruce fight, people that he has to say he misses after only two days when before Jason was on his own, alone, and here he was with a guy to fall asleep next to every night and a little girl who calls him ‘papa’.

“You could have gone with them for Christmas. No one would have blamed you.”

Jason collects himself, puts his hand down, but he’s still smiling softly. “Yeah, I know. But I haven’t been home for a while. The three of us are gonna go down to the beach for New Year’s anyway, just the three of us. So it’ll be good.”

Dick finally smiles. “I’m happy for you, Jay.”

“Me too, Dickie. Me too.”

—

Tim comes home half past seven in a flurry of motion. He doesn’t stop to say hi, just runs up to his room and closes the door tight. Damian said he saw him with wrapping paper and tape, so they all figure he’s just trying to be the most unsubtle sneaky person ever in wrapping his last gift. He comes down about half an hour later with an armful of wrapped presents and puts them under the tree just as everyone else is doing the same. Dick almost immediately starts shaking anything with his name on it until Bruce glares at him to stop, particularly at one that rattles around very loudly.

“Why does it look like Titus has more presents then all of us?” Jason asks as he stands up, counting out the gifts.

Damian glares, patting the dog in question’s head as he lays on the couch, taking up all three cushions. “Because he’s clearly the best one in the family. He deserves presents.”

There was an eruption of soft grumbling as everyone seemed to agree after a moment and Damian huffed out his approval before everyone went off to get ready for bed.

Tim hunkered down in the kitchen with a plate made up by Alfred, popping it in the microwave before sitting down at the island to eat. Dick found him there, alone, looked enraptured by the lasagna on his plate.

“Hey,” He says, leaning down to wrap his arms around Tim’s front. He puts his chin on Tim’s shoulder, watching him eat for a bit. “How was your shopping trip? I thought you got everything over the weekend.”

“Well, I decided I needed one more thing. It’s for you, anyway.” Tim bites another forkful of lasagna.

“For me, hu?” Dick smiles, press his mouth to Tim’s shoulder so he can feel it. “What is it?” He mutters the words into his skin.

“No way, you’ll find out tomorrow. No presents until the morning.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Nope.” Tim pops the ‘p’ before finishing off his late meal, pushing Dick away to put the dishes in the sink. He looks over his shoulder at Dick. “Is everyone upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He’s grinning when he turns around, grabs Dick by his shirt to drag him forward and kiss him hard. Dick smiles into the kiss, crowding Tim up against the sink as his hands go to Tim’s hips.

He pulls away to bite at Tim’s jaw. “You taste like pasta sauce.”

Tim rolls his eyes, runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. “I wonder why. Don’t leave any marks; I’d hate to have to explain where I got a mysterious hickey from tomorrow.”

“Say you snuck out to go to a crazy party.”

“That’s Jason,” Tim snorts. “There’s only so much college bad boy I can get away with.”

“Thank god.”

Tim drags his mouth back up to his and kisses him sloppy for a few minutes, lost in one another as their hands pet above each other’s clothes. The clock outside the kitchen and just down the hall chimes loudly that it’s midnight and both of them pull away looking flushed and out of breath.

“Should probably get to bed.” Dick’s the first to say and Tim hums his agreement.

“Got to fall sleep before Santa gets here and all.”

Tim follows Dick upstairs, then continues on to his bathroom where he again brushes his teeth alongside Dick. Tim gives him one last peck on the cheek as his good night and Dick notices he left his tooth brush in the bathroom after he’s gone.

—

Somehow, Jason’s still the first one up on Christmas day. Ever since getting adopted by Bruce, he made it a point to be the first one up in the morning and wake everyone else up in the process. Dick was always the easiest to get up next, simply shaking him frantically awake until he jolted up in bed. Bruce is next with a giant knock on his door that bangs all through the manor until Bruce is cursing his alert state. Damian throws his lamp at Jason when he flicks on the lights in his room. Tim whines long and loud when Jason just jumps on top of him, refusing to get up until Tim says he’s awake. Jason doesn’t dare to wake up Alfred, though there’s no reason to do so as the butler is already up and brewing the first batch of coffee for the morning.

It’s just past seven in the morning when all of them assemble in the living room around their messy rainbow-lit tree to open presents. It becomes a quick mess of wrapping paper and tissue paper even though Alfred does try his hardest to keep it all in a trash bag.

Bruce has bought Damian a new easel, Damian’s gotten Alfred a brass tea pot he’d bought last time he’d been in Saudi Arabia with his mother. At the mention of Talia, Bruce clears his throat and produces a package for Damian from her. Inside is a knife with a carved handle and Bruce immediately groans, reminds himself that he needs to talk to Talia again about her issue of giving their son weapons as presents.

“Her and grandfather wish me a happy holiday and hope this will be a good addition to my collection.” Damian comments as he reads the card from her.

“Oh,” Tim pipes up, snatching the card from Damian’s hands. “Did good ol’ Ra’s send me anything?”

“Why would he send you anything?” Dick asks as he opens up his gift from Jason—a police officer play set complete with plastic handcuffs and a collection of sticker badges. Jason laughs at his face, so Dick makes it his mission to have Jason trapped in the handcuffs by the end of the day.

“Didn’t I tell you? He’s a creep.”

Dick sits up a little straighter, turning wide-eyed towards his brother. Tim’s cracking a grin at which Dick finds ever so slightly disturbing. He looks to see if Damian’s taken aback by this but he doesn’t look it at all.

“What?”

Tim chuckles. “When I turned eighteen he offered me some job that was essentially his personal assistant, said I’d do much better with him as my teacher and by his side blah, blah, blah. Creepy old man hitting on me sort of stuff. Thought it was sort of hilarious. I still have his number in my phone.”

_“What?”_

“Relax,” Tim says, grabbing up another of his presents—a cookbook for college students from Alfred, “It’s not like I took the offer. He just tries to persuade me once in a while.”

That’s still not a good answer to Dick and he’s only ever met the guy three times in the past, but he knows for a fact if he sees him again he’s definitely going to punch him in the face.

Bruce quickly defuses the situation, giving his children more of their presents to open up and distract them, though Dick’s still aware of the irritation and jealousy bubbling in his stomach.

As it turns out, Titus does make out like a fiend. He’s got a new harness, a basket full of new toys, a blanket, two new sweaters, and three bags of dog treats bigger than Dick’s head. He’s asleep by the fire with one of his new toys under his paw before it’s even eleven and the family’s moving into the kitchen for breakfast.

During, they get a call from Cass and Stephanie wishing them all a merry Christmas. The call goes on for over two hours with each brother wanting to talk to their sister, fighting over phone as each of them takes up too much time. Cass laughs listening to them argue about how Tim got twenty-seven minutes, but Damian only got twenty-five. Bruce has to take the phone away before a true fist fight starts up, reminding his kids that they are perfectly capable of calling her at any point and before Cass goes she promises they’ll all Skype together tomorrow when the festivities have died down. She says she’s having a great time, so is Steph, and they have a suitcase full of presents for everyone when they get back. The rest of the family are quick to remind her she has her own pile of presents to open still, so she should get back home soon.

Much of the day was spent lazy. Dick plotted ways to handcuff Jason to the staircase, Damian and Tim were lost playing Lego Star Wars together (Tim’s gift to Damian), Bruce fell in and out of sleep in his recliner watching _A Christmas Story_ like he did every year, and Alfred prepped dinner in between reading chapters of the newest mystery novel Jason had bought him (“Oh my god, Al, you’re going to be done with it in two days, I swear, it’s great and I need someone to talk about it with.”)

Dinner starts a six, the usual feast of turkey and ham too big for the six of them, but Alfred tells them he’ll be sending plenty of leftovers home with Dick and Jason. He’s even made an extra apple pie so Jason can take it home for Lian and Roy, knowing how much the two enjoy Alfred’s baking.

As soon as Alfred’s done mentioning the pie, as if he knew they were talking about him, Roy calls Jason’s phone.

He doesn’t answer it the first time, knowing the rule of no phones during dinner, particularly when it’s a holiday, but when Roy keeps calling back Jason excuses himself to answer it.

He’s out of the dining room, but his voice is clear as day as he nearly shouts “He _what?_ ” and suddenly dinner was put on hold to listen intently.

It was something of a jumbled conversation to put together as they could only hear the single side of Jason, which mostly consisted of ‘Babe, stop yelling.’ and ‘Roy, Roy!’ or ‘Are you even listening to me?’ The conversation lasts for about twenty minutes before Jason comes back into the dining room to fall hard down into his chair, groaning.

“A dog,” he says, sounding defeated. “Ollie got Lian a dog for Christmas and didn’t tell either of us.”

“Haven’t you been talking about getting a dog for months now?”

“That’s not the point, _Dick._ The point is he went and did it behind our backs because him and Roy still have this dumb ego match or something.”

Damian looks interested. “What sort of dog?”

Jason glares at the youngest of them, but answers anyway. “A dachshund. Apparently he’s tiny enough to fit in your hand and Lian’s named him Sully.”

Tim blinked. “From the pixar movie?”

“He’s got spots and she’s obsessed.”

“That’s adorable.”

“It is,” Jason sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “But that’s not the point! I just—lets finish dinner and I’ll call him back after to make sure he hasn’t done anything drastic.”

“Dinah’s with them. They’ll be fine.”

The family all agrees with Bruce on that. She’s the voice of reason in the family and no one dares argue against her.

As soon as he’s done eating, Jason clears his plate and says his thanks before darting out the door to go pace about on the patio while talking Roy off the edge and lighting up a cigarette, trying to remind him his daughter already loves the dog—he can hear her in the background—and it’s not the worst thing to ever happen. Things finally calm down a little when Lian finally demands to speak with him and starts talking his ear off about Sully and how cute he is and how grandpa bought him a bed that he can sleep in and puppy food and toys. Jason’s smiling the entire time he’s on the phone with her and doesn’t mind that he misses dessert because of it.

Food and pie are being put away—Damian’s passed out in the new dog bed with Titus who’s also asleep, his head upon Damian’s back. Bruce helps Alfred with the dishes as Tim and Dick pack up all the leftovers.

“Hey,” Tim whispers, nudging Dick with his elbow. “Meet me in your room in fifteen minutes? I’ve still got one more present for you.” It’s coupled with a sly smile and a wink that’s as suggestive as Dick’s ever seen. He nearly drops the Tupperware in his hands as Tim leaves the kitchen to head up to what Dick can only assume is his room to get whatever the present was ready.

He tries to finish up the chore slowly, counting out the minutes in his head because he doesn’t want to look like an idiot and dart up the steps too early or alert anyone else’s attention that something’s wrong. It feels like the longest fifteen minutes of his life as he puts everything away and even wipes down the dining table before he looks at the clock to find the fifteen minutes are finally up. He wants to take the stairs two at a time, but keeps himself calm as he climbs them just in case and then walks down the hall as fast as he dares.

When he gets to his room, nothing appears changed or out of the ordinary. Tim’s just sitting on his bed with a messily wrapped present in his hands, something small and soft looking that Dick eyes up suspiciously.

“So,” Tim starts, handing Dick the little present. “I want you to go into the bathroom and change into this. Just this.”

Tim’s got a wicked grin growing on his face and Dick can’t help but start to feel hot under his collar. He takes the present without question and disappears out into his bathroom which Dick finds almost dangerous as anyone could come up and find him walking from the bathroom to his bedroom afterwards in whatever it is that Tim’s given him.

When he actually does undress and put it on, he certainly feels ridiculous walking out into the hallway again. He double checks to make sure no one else is there before stepping out and darting to his room. Tim’s still sitting on the bed in the same spot as he left him when he returns, closing the door behind him, and locking it tight.

Tim grins.

“Really?”

Dick’s standing in the middle of his room wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs. They’re all red except for green mistletoe printed right over his crotch.

Tim beams. “Really.”

Tim pushed himself up from the bed to grab Dick by the wrist and tug him along until Dick can sit in the exact spot Tim was before with a little nudge. Tim’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders, just looking down at him for a few moments before his hands travel downwards, going lower, until Tim has to fall down to his knees as his hands reach Dick’s thighs.

Dick raises a brow as Tim squeezes his knees, pushing them open so he can settle between them. His breath hitches in his throat.

“Tim,” he clears his throat, knows for a fact that this is going somewhere. “Are you…you want to jump into this already?”

“What’s the point of waiting?”

That’s not exactly the answer Dick was going for, but he’s not entirely sure why he thought conversation was necessary as Tim settles between his legs and immediately puts his mouth over the bulge in his pants.

Dick throws his head back in a soft gasp, just the heat of Tim’s mouth on him beginning to get him hard. He rolls his tongue over cloth, right over the leaves of the mistletoe, tracing his way up the stem of it, and Dick can’t only believe this is what they’ve come too.

If someone told him a week ago he’d have his little brother on his knees sucking on his growing erection, he’d have laughed in their face, but now…

“Timmy…” Dick breathes out the name and is answered with Tim peering up at him, not stopping what he’s doing as he stares up at Dick with his big blue eyes.

He looks so pretty, Dick must admit, on his knees with his tongue out lapping at the fabric covering Dick’s cock, getting it damp and dark with spit.  Dick can’t help but moan when Tim’s mouth covers the head of his cock, sucking hard at the shape of it as he fills out the underwear, growing harder, fatter, straining against the cloth. He wants to grab at Tim’s hair, press his mouth harder over him, but Dick holds himself in check by gripping his bedding hard, keeping himself still as Tim continues to explore with his tongue and suck until very bit of the front of the pants are wet.

Tim’s mouth moves up to his stomach, kissing taunt skin and dipping his tongue into Dick’s belly button as his fingers curl into the waist band of the boxer-briefs and Tim slowly pulls them down over the hard shape of Dick’s cock. Dick gasps softly as the cool air hits his damp flesh, cock bobbing up and he doesn’t miss the look of hunger that crosses Tim’s face at the sight of it.

“Fuck,” Tim breathes out. He’s still so close that Dick can feel the puff of air from the word. “You are so damned hot, Dick. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get you like this.”

Dick remembers him mentioning something about him being everyone’s ‘wet dream’ and can only imagine. He pictures a younger Tim laying in his bed with his hand down his pants trying to keep quit as he stokes himself off to mental pictures of Dick, of what Tim must have wanted, of them like this, together, hot and heavy, and Tim would come into his own hand and have to clean it all up. He’d blush in the morning when he had to face Dick, that pretty crimson flush along his cheeks, and all Dick wants now is for Tim to get naked, to touch him, to see exactly how he looks when he comes.

Except this isn’t the time, this is Tim’s game and he’s in control. He stares at Dick’s cock before leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to the very base of it, nosing at the dark curls and breathing Dick in. He shudders hard under Tim’s touch, having to force himself not to thrust up asking for more.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait. Tim doesn’t tease for long, probably because he’s been waiting for ages for this to happen. His mouth moves down, tonguing along Dick’s shaft, following the map of veins as they move up and down his length before taking him in hand, bringing his cock up so he could get at the head of it, wrapping his lips around it and sucking just as he had when he was still wearing the underwear.

Dick groans loud, feels how Tim slides down just a little bit and presses his tongue under the head, rolls it up to swipe along his slit and lick up the precum beading there. Tim’s tongue is slow, exploring, and it’s right on that edge of burning pleasure that’s too little and exactly what Dick wants at the same time.

Tim’s slow in taking more of him into his mouth, but it’s not because of any sort of hesitation. Tim actually appears to know exactly what he’s doing, mouth stretching wide to accommodate the length sliding along his tongue. He’s got one hand on Dick’s thigh and the other pressed against his stomach as if for support, keeping himself right where he needs to be.

His mouth is all wet, hot, tight. He turns his head to press the tip of Dick’s cock against his cheek, bulging the skin out and Dick moans at the sight, can’t help himself as he reaches up to feel exactly how his dick presses against Tim’s cheek.

“Jesus, Tim,” He manages to get out, practically drooling as Tim’s eyes flutter up to look at him. They’re a little wet around the corners, more black than blue within them now. He’s enjoying himself, sucking Dick off. “You look so good like this.”

Tim slowly pulls back, sliding off his cock which feels like a terrible sin right now, but Tim’s got his hand around the shaft, jerking him off slowly, his fist loose, sliding the spit Tim left behind all along the skin.

“You can touch me,” Tim says as he takes in slowly, steady breathes. “I don’t mind. I actually like it.”

It’s a statement that Dick takes as both good and bad. Good because Tim is enjoying this, does truly like what he’s doing and it’s not just some present he felt Dick would only enjoy. Bad, because it nails down deeper the fact that Tim had done this with others before. He’d gone to school and gone to parties and had other people’s dicks in his mouth, learned how to suck a guy off from frat boys and drunks and whoever he thought was good for it.

It leaves a sour taste in Dick’s mouth that he tries to ignore for the time being, focusing in the now with Tim between his legs and his lips plump and shiny. He gives Dick a lopsided grin before opening his mouth and sliding back down to where he left off, taking half of Dick’s cock into his mouth with no problem at all.

This time, when Dick moans, he moves his hands to Tim’s hair and grips there, feels the soft strands of hair between his fingers and the shape of Tim’s skull under his palm. He sighs all the happier, petting Tim as he feels him suck more of him down, the tip of his cock edging down Tim’s throat. It’s so much tighter, warmer, and Dick’s so surprised that he doesn’t stop there, just keeps taking more and more in at an easy pace until Dick’s well aware of the fluttering of Tim’s throat muscles around him, how there’s very little left to suck down.

Tim’s drooling heavy, spit getting Dick’s cock so wet as it gathers in Tim’s mouth, floods out around the edges, drools down his chin. It’s so beautiful to watch, so amazing to feel, and Dick’s so transfixed he takes a leap and swivels his hips ever so gently, pressing further into Tim’s mouth.

For a moment Tim sputters, gathering himself at the sudden extra intrusion, but he corrects himself quickly, doesn’t let himself gag behind the thick swallow around Dick’s cock that leaves Dick panting.

He looks up at Dick with his eyes still wet, mouth stretched around him so wide, and nods ever so slightly as a yes—a go ahead.

It’s like a trigger going off as Dick’s fingers curl harder in Tim’s hair, gripping hard before he pushes his hips, fucks into Tim’s mouth, and it’s almost too much when Tim’s eyes closes and he moans around Dick. It sends vibrations all around him, making him curses as his hips move more, thrusting over and over again.

He uses his grip on Tim’s hair to move his head, bring him closer and back, over and over. He tries not to be too harsh or violent, but Tim never says stop, never pulls away. The hand still on his thigh is just a little bit tighter, but otherwise the grip he has is still light and relaxed.

At some point Tim starts whimpering softly, Dick can feel it against his cock, and it’s enough to have the coiling in Dick’s stomach go tight enough to break.

He moans once more, pulling back from Tim’s mouth just as all his muscles go tense and he’s coming all over Tim’s lips, his tongue catching drops, strands painting his chin, dripping down with the mess of drool. He sits back on his knees and takes it, panting, lets Dick come and come over his face until he’s spent and then he leans forward, takes Dick’s tip back into his mouth and sucks hard just to make sure nothing’s left to give and Dick hisses at the sensation.

“Holy, fuck, Timmy,” Dick pulls Tim away by the hair, looks down at him—at the collection of cum and drool on his face, at the tears in his eyes, how his mouths open, panting hard, mouth red, swollen, abused, looking happy and fucked out with only giving a blowjob. “You’re filthy.” He says, runs his thumb over Tim’s chin, cleaning up the mess there before Tim’s turning his head and sucking his thumb into his mouth, cleaning it off before swallowing around it and Dick can feel his cock twitching, wanting to get hard again with how hot that is, how Tim’s tongue rolls over his skin. “Fuck, baby…”

Tim smiles up at him before standing, stretching out the kinks in his legs before grabbing his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Dick stares long and hard at the first sight of exposed skin on him, bringing his hands forward to rest on Tim’s hips when the shirt is gone, feeling the soft, pale, skin beneath his fingertips.

There’s an obvious bulge in Tim’s jeans, one that Dick is happy to get out, pulling at the button and unzipping the zipper.  Tim whimpers again when his jeans are pulled down, hips rolling as the restrictive pants are  away from him, though Dick’s staring hard at the underwear he’s wearing because well…apparently he got something of a matching pair.

“Well?” Tim asks, stepping out of his jeans and turning in a slow circle to let Dick see. “What do you think?”

They were the same color of red as Dick’s, except it was very obvious this set was meant for a man and a woman and Dick was given the man’s pair. They were a bikini cut with a little bow at the front, barely holding in Tim’s hard-on and the fabric already wet where his cock started leaking. The mistletoe wasn’t on the front though. The image was printed on Tim’s ass, a wonderful sight to see with the thin underwear tight over his cheeks.

“Holy shit, Tim.” Is the only thing Dick can manage.

Tim steps close to Dick, puts his arms around his neck and leans down to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into Dick’s mouth, forcing Dick to taste himself within the kiss. Tim pulls away just a fraction, still so close Dick can feel his lips against his own as he asks:

“Eat me out?”

It’s so straight forward, so unlike the Tim that Dick knew from the summer, from high school, except he’s still the same person. He’s Tim and he’s happy and he’s standing in front of Dick now nearly naked having just let him fuck his face and he’s asking for Dick to eat his ass while batting his eyelashes.

Dick says nothing, only growls and grabs Tim by the waist, flipping their positions quickly, pushing Tim down onto his stomach on the bed, his toes just brushing the floor.

Dick’s not slow and patient like Tim. He’s got the little panties ripped down over his ass in no time, the fabric tight across his thighs, but giving Dick enough room to do what he wanted. He spread Tim’s thighs, telling him to keep them open before he gets his hands on the round cheeks of Tim’s ass. They were perfect against Dick’s hands, perky and pale, so much so that Dick couldn’t help himself as he gave both sides a quick swat, leaving the skin warm and pink with Tim groaning with the sharp sting, grinding his hard cock into the bed.

“You’re so damned pretty,” Dick says, thinks he’s said it at least ten times tonight because it’s true. The arch of Tim’s back, the muscles of his shoulders, the way his head hangs down and Dick can hear him moaning.

He pulls Tim’s cheeks apart and admires the sight of his little hole, pink and twitching and it’s only a second before Dick’s diving down, running his tongue over him, and Tim’s groaning so loud he has to shove his head into the bedding, bite at the sheets to keep quiet as Dick licks him open.

Dick gets him wet, spits onto his hole, leans back to rub it in with his thumb, press against skin, feeling it want to give beneath him.

“God, I want to fuck you.” Dick’s muttering. “Next time I’ll open you up like this before sticking my dick in because I need to feel you around him.”

Tim hisses. “Yes, please, fuck just—get your tongue in me now!” He arches and rolls his hips, thrusts his ass back towards Dick as an invitation and Dick figures it would be rude to ignore it.

It’s amazing how easily Tim opens for him, how he relaxes and moans as Dick licks and licks until Tim’s good and wet and he can press his tongue inside. He’s hot and tight around him, moaning above him and thrusting back against his face trying to get more.

Dick holds his hips down, listens to Tim whine right before he’s pressing in deeper, wriggling his tongue in a manner that gets Tim gasping, moaning again and having to muffle his sounds into the bed. In rebellion, Tim reaches back and grabs Dick’s head, pushing him harder against his ass. Dick sees no reason to complain and simply presses his tongue in deeper, licking and licking until he pulls away for a breath, bites gently at sensitive skin as he does so.

Tim’s grinding down harder against the mattress, his poor rhythm lost already which must mean he’s close. Dick wonders how long he was hard while sucking his cock, wants to almost flips Tim over and look at his pretty red cock straining still against the cotton fabric of the panties probably completely soaked in the front with precum.

He groans into Tim’s skin, feels the bottom below him jerk, the muscles under his hands tighten, and Dick doesn’t waste another second dipping back in, feeling the way Tim clenching around his tongue and he humps the mattress further, grinds his cock down and does his best to fuck back against Dick’s tongue, get more of that feeling.

When Tim finally comes, he’s just barely able to contain his scream in the mattress. His back arches as he thrusts with all his might back against Dick’s face, grinds hard against him and flutters around the feeling of Dick tongue-fucking him out. Dick licks him through it, laps over and over again at Tim’s loosened hole until Tim’s pushing his head away and rolling over onto his back, breathing heavy.

The little mistletoe panties are completely wrecked, his cock sticking out of them, cum staining his stomach and the cotton. His neck and chest are flushed pink, his cheeks a matching shade, and looking down at him Dick fears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“You’re filthy, baby.”

He crawls up onto the bed to kiss Tim slowly, their tongues sliding together languid until both needed to pull back, still trying to get their breath back from what had just happened.

Tim doesn’t move at all, but Dick’s able to grab a blanket and pillows for them both, crawling into the bed beside Tim, throwing the blanket up over them both to snuggle into the warmth of it, force the creeping cold air out.

It’s later now and Dick’s aware Tim’s going to sleep in his room, that they’re both naked, that the family will very likely know about them in the morning or may already know right now, but that’s a problem for the morning, and right now Dick’s warm with Tim curled up in his arms, breathing softly against his collar.

He looks to the window and finds it’s snowing again.

Dick kisses the top of Tim’s head, brushing his hair from his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Dick.” Tim mutters into his neck and Dick can’t help the chuckle that leaves his throat.

“Merry Christmas, Tim. I’m really glad you made it home.”

He can feel Tim smiling against his skin. Dick holds him a little closer and closes his eyes.

It’s snowing outside, the manor is quiet, and for the time being Dick’s content with everything in his life.


End file.
